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Cord and Diana headed out this morning, searching for the best way to approach Susan. Seeking a place, a time, a venue to meet her. A place where she and I can talk, where I can convince her I had nothing to do with the assault. Standing in a mizzle, watch as they disappear into the valley. Sigh. Turning, eyes-up scan the area.
The recent addition to our territory responding well. Sure an occasional squabble, but mostly working. Doing a 180 take a moment to view up the road to the west, a large adobe style, two-story structure in view. The occupants have cleared a moat of twenty-five to thirty-foot glade surrounded by a pile of tumbleweeds and cacti. The building occupied but, rarely does anyone emerge. At night, an occasional ray of light slips out like a beacon, announcing its presence. How did they clear the area while not being observed? Overnight? Sitting on a rise, tenants can see visitors approaching. High ground controlled. Wondering if maybe approached, they might like to form an alliance.
An early morning thunderstorm now approaching. Never a good idea standing in an open field. Time to head for cover. As I rush toward shelter, the downpour begins, lightning strikes within a mile, the flash is bright, I blink, stumble awkwardly, thunder follows, and… what was that? Was that another thunderclap? A low rumble. A low frequency sound wave that physically moves the body and your immediate environment.
Looking around, nothing was improving. News travels slowly, some positive, mostly how the ‘elite’ continue to control what resources exist and eventually disseminated. We have a solar powered shortwave radio that broadcast for twenty minutes daily the news… real or fake? One can never truly know so, ignored. We daily adjusted to this new normal. We adjust to the runt we have dug.
Sure, I remember when they talked about self-driving cars, increase shelf life of foods, lab grown meats, flying cars, growing replacement body parts, and how climate change was part of a cycle, don’t worry. Governments proclaiming how every problem has a solution. Our innovative spirit will outmaneuver Mother Nature. In truth, not so much.
Reality, parts of the planet now inhabitable, climate migration filling limited arable land, toxic populations, oceans rising oh so very slowing, glaciers melt oh so quick, coastal flooding forcing folks to higher ground, permafrost thawing releasing microorganisms, mosquitoes that carry diseases, death by heat, cold, disease, weather, starvation, us against nature. And each other. The Great Depression, twenty-five percent unemployment. The Great Depression 2.0, exceeding fifty percent unemployment.
History has taught us nothing. Remember the Inca Civilization, Aztec Civilization, Roman Civilization, Persian, Greek, Chinese, Maya, Egyptian Civilizations. Of course you remember them, you read about them in books, watched PBS videos, now stories, gone, books used for tinder. Destroyed by you and I, by our ‘innovative’ capacity, our covetousness. Short-termism: the new standard prevailed over long-range forecasting, planning and preparation, as predicted by Robert Muggah (2022).
I need to stay busy. Pull the remaining team members together and suggest we visit our neighbors.
And here we are, approaching what appears to be an unoccupied residence. Most buildings nearby cannibalism while the current owners have removed any useful parts, leaving only brush cleared out, leaving a barren swath, exposing the primary structure currently protruding like a proud peacock, flaunting its existence.
I take the lead, white flag in hand, waiting for the owner or owners to appear. Guessing I have a 50/50 chance of survival. Slowly. Two appear, armed, using a red plastic megaphone, like a cheerleader might have used years ago, and command we stop… and, “look left.”
“What?” I blinked, looked when an IED exploded. My horse spooked, sending me to the ground, ears ringing, sprayed by small rocks, dazed. I lie, eyes closed, catching my breath, What the… Slowly regain my composure, drag myself to my knees, stand, still holding the white flag.
“Don’t ya come any nearer, cuz you standing on an IED,” a female voice announces.
I wave weakly, rub my temple, grimace, stretch my neck, shoulders, focus.
“Get your horse and leave.”
“Wait, we got some supplies in the wagon, looking to trade,” I shout. “Some stuff, clothing, medical supplies, odds and ends.”
“Get your horse, get back to the wagon, unhitch the wagon and you all, ya leave. If ya touch the wagon, we’ll blow it sky high.”
“I was hoping we could trade. We need some wood, linen, …”
“Times running out.”
A smaller blast to my right spooks my mount, now running a short distance away. A single gun shot missing my boot by inches. “What the hell!”
Crap, turn and start running. This is not working out as planned. Hightailing toward the wagon, scream. “We need to unhitch the horses quickly and go away. She gonna blow the wagon.”
Frank ask, “she for real, or bluffing?”
“She didn’t strike me as the bluffing type.”
Unhitched the wagon, moving away, completed one last act, lit the fuse.
“What are you doing?” Frank asked.
“Making a point, run.”
Scampering a safe distance away, turn. Boom, there she blows into thousands of splinters. Smoke and dust rained down.
“What were you thinking?”
Retrieving my ride, “No way I was leaving an empty wagon behind.”
Moving my horse to a gallop, head toward the building. Close behind Frank and Addison. I hear someone yell, “stop.”
Watch the two occupants. Both standing on an upper deck, aiming their weapon. Wonder, would they really shoot? Half way there, pull the reins to halt my advance. Unbuckle my holster, drop it to the ground. Charge forward. Closing in. Heard a shot echo. Did they miss on purpose? Their bodies shift, rifles aimed at me.
“Whoa,” raise my hands, while quickly dismounting and placing my hands on my head.
A door on the first floor opens and out walks a third occupant. A woman. All three appear youthful, healthy.
Stepping out, “Are you crazy?”
“What the hell, lady? Are you paranoid?”
“Drop to your knees.”
“Relax!”
“Relax? You’re the one blowing up a wagon and then charging up the road like a fool.”
“Good point. Can I stand up?”
“First it’s may I and no, you may not.”
From where the weapons are now aimed and their eyes looking realize Addison and Frank must be approaching. Footsteps. In my peripheral vision realize they have arrived and are now taking a knee. My knees aching as small rocks are pressing into my body. Gingerly, adjust.
“My name is…”
“Jesse, this is Frank, the chatter-box, and her name is Addison, the brains of the gang. Guessing at the pile of debris is Joshua and... I’m not sure, anyway, they warned us you’d be coming. And informed us of a substantial reward.”
“Well, ah…”
“Shut up… So, Ms. Addison, I’m thinking I should shoot him? Betcha he’s got a weapon in a back holster. I could claim self defense. And still collect the reward. Here’s the plan. Ms. Addison and Mr. Jesse, you will come with me. Frank, gather the weapons, mount, and, with your friends, leave the premises cuz I suspect the local militia will arrive soon. GO!”
“But…”
“Go!”
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